


In the gods eyes

by InkkEmulsion



Series: Borderlands 3 [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: It's just cute ok, depends on your definition of cute, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 13:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkkEmulsion/pseuds/InkkEmulsion
Summary: Gods don't squint....Except when they need new glasses.





	In the gods eyes

It takes you the longest time to figure it out, with only the vaguest clues to go off of. Catching sight of the twin gods in person after all was unheard of for most followers- they were busy gathering a loyal following, ensuring the ‘Children of the Vault’ cult ran smoothly with a constant supply of weapons and high morale. The first clue was catching sight of Troy squint when trying to read something when doing his inspections around home base. The mechanics bay was full of all sorts of activity at the home base of the twin gods and Troy often could be found lurking around for tune ups on his arm. 

Watching his brow furrow through while trying to read a sign only 5ft away was... Oddly cute though. Jaw set in concentration and icy blue eyes focused hard on the writing in front of him; he was completely oblivious to your attention. Only when he had to take a few steps closer to the rules of the mechanics bay did he glance around, catching sight of you with a soft glare that meant ‘get back to work- or else.’

You hurriedly did as his gaze suggested, the last you saw of him that day was him almost nose to sign reading the small but bold text.

The next clue was during a live broadcast. The god twins were clearly reading off something for a grandiose announcement but the brother of the two was having a tough time reading his lines. Tyreen played it off brilliantly, dazzling the show as always and diverting attention in ways only she knew how but even the god queen could tell something was up.

The final piece of the puzzle was when Troy was spotted once again lingering in the mechanics bay- but this time at your desk. You specialised in delicate work like refining gun barrels that were a fraction of a millimetre too small to fire safely. Details that if gotten wrong would potentially kill the user with a backfire, or break the weapon entirely. It was a delicate time consuming work requiring high precision tools- something that was in dire need in this army of psychos and lunatics. The rarity of the skill set was probably why you hadn’t been killed yet, or offered as a sacrifice. That being said, having Troy Calypso himself waiting at your workspace, lounging on the table edge ever so casually brought a stutter to your step. You never received personal visits unless it was something direly important- like when Tyreen had broken Troy’s sword trying to swing it at something and had demanded you fix it before he could find out.

He still didn’t know, even to this day.

The moment his gaze locked onto you however, there was no turning back. Him standing to attention and stalking forwards was honestly the most intimidating thing you’d seen since arriving here- and you’d seen one of the priests set themselves on fire as tribute to prove their devotion. It was a mess afterwards cleaning up those ashes.

The man easily towered above you, craning your neck to properly look up at them with proper respect a god deserved. His expression was hard to read, metal arm crossing with his organic one and staring at you with an intensity you couldn’t tell was good or bad. A few moments passed by.  
“You’re the one who does detail work right? I have a job for you.”

\---

Somehow you were sat with Troy at one half of your desk, yourself occupying the other and doing work on his robot arm while he read something on his datapad. You had no idea what, but judging by his silence it was something important. You worked in quiet ease, still disbelieving you were getting the chance to even be this close in the first place. Granted, it wasn’t exactly easy work calibrating such delicate mechanisms, whoever having make the last adjustments had wound them up far too tight-

But this was amazing.

You couldn’t help but glance up at him every so often when progress was made, his lip caught by the glint of a fang as his face pressed a little too close to the screen. Almost like... You pause for just a moment, rummaging through a drawer by your side full of precision lenses which causes him to perk up and turn just a fraction, cold gaze glancing over your form to see what had caused a stop to his important task given to you. Fiddling for something for a moment he’s about to speak up when you find what you’re looking for, and carefully offer the dark glasses frames to the god. He seems taken aback, expression bewildered at the pair of glasses held out to him.

“...What are these for and why do I need them?” He asks quite bluntly, expression unimpressed but with a little insistence, he takes them delicately in his one free hand. 

“For seeing. I noticed you squint a bit and- well try them on. Let me know if it makes a difference.” There is a long very tense pause where he looks ready to snap at you, eyes narrowed dangerously and his arm despite most panels missing tenses the same way it does when he’s about to swing at something. Then Troy relaxes, harsh gaze swapping instead to the somewhat sleek looking set in the drawer and with a moment of hesitation he wears them. More silence.

“...I don’t see any difference. Don’t waste my time,” he growls lowly, the threat rising again but with a little urging, you point to his documents.

“They’re for up close- try reading again. Please?” You try to insist, and with another irritated huff he obeys, glare remaining until it slowly thaws, a gentle realisation cresting in his mind. The glasses are lowered and raised into his line of sight a few times as if disbelieving and any kind of violence that might have been building vanishes in an instant. A quiet sigh eases from his mouth, the harsh lines that once strained under his eyes easing away gently.

“...I’m shortsighted,” he murmurs under his breath, palm coming to rest on the god’s forehead in exasperation. You choose to make no comment, knowing better. When the task is over, you urge him to keep the glasses insisting it is no trouble.

What you don’t expect is for him to return again- this time with a request for a custom pair of glasses to match his outfit.

You don’t miss how occasionally he resorts to the first pair, when he thinks nobody is watching.


End file.
